


do not stand at my grave and cry; i am not there. i did not die.

by gillywulf



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:26:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10071401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillywulf/pseuds/gillywulf
Summary: Lexa learns what “death is not the end” really means.





	

As it comes with thinking of death as often as she did, Lexa liked to imagine the afterlife. That, and it was inescapable. 

She thought it might be a place where she would be forced to endure punishment from the lives she’d taken during her own, both as a warrior and a leader. She pictured the scores of fighters and innocent civilians caught in her crossfire and what they might say and do to her. There wasn’t much they could have done in life, but in death, there was nothing to stop them. 

Her surprise was clearly warranted when that was not what awaited her. 

When Lexa opened her eyes after closing them for the last time, it was to the clearest skies she’d ever seen and tall swaying grass that proved there was a breeze before her skin ever felt it. It was literally impossible. Her hands patted frantically at her stomach only to feel nothing. It was almost a full minute before her situation sunk in. 

This was death. Decent weather and a pretty view. 

She walked until she found a matching picturesque forest where light filtered through the canopy and lit up the forest floor in patches. The way it fell on to her skin warmed her more than she thought it ought to. Then, after walking for hours, she came upon a small network of huts. Wary as she was, she took a chance. 

“Hello?” she called out. She positioned herself to be ready for anything, to fight, to flee, to talk. The nearest door opened and she didn’t know which of those options was more appropriate. 

“Lexa,” Costia gasped, marching across the distance with urgency, “what are you doing here?” Lexa could barely breathe. 

“What?” Costia threw her arms around Lexa’s next and squeezed for the years they had and lost together. Instinctively, Lexa reciprocated. Costia was her first everything and to _hold_ her again was...incredible. 

“You shouldn’t be here, not yet” Costia murmured into her neck. Her warm breath tickled Lexa’s skin and it felt too real. Her arms tightened again. 

“I swear to _fucking_ \- are you _kidding_ me?!” A new voice broke them apart just in time for Lexa to catch a fist to her jaw. She stumbled to the ground, and with a hand to the wound, she gaped up at her attacker. Anya’s eyes had uncharacteristic tears flowing from them. “Why the _fuck_ are you dead?” Oh. Yes. That was why they were upset to see her. “You _ungrateful_ -” Her mentor heaved her off of her ass, “completely _stupid_ -” pulled her into another forceful hug, “ _idiotic_ goufa” 

“It wasn’t intentional” Lexa argued lightly, allowing herself to feel the relief of seeing her mentor again. Soon enough, Gustus, her parents, and two other Natblidas from her conclave - Oten and Lyt - came out of their huts to admonish her and hold her tightly. It was overwhelming. 

She’d been only a few years old when her natblida status had removed her from her parents custody. She’d attempted to find them again once she’d been made Heda only to discover they’d been killed in a bandit raid five years prior. It made her unsure of how to act around them, as with the other natblidas and Gustus, seeing as she had been the one to kill them. All of them assured her as they sat in her parents hut catching up that they harbored no ill will against her. But Lexa still cried and apologized. Only in her death could she have all of the people she loved in one place. 

“How did you die?” her mother asked in the contented silence after dinner. All of them watched Lexa expectantly. She was suddenly aware that they must all have been expecting some glorious death fit for Heda of the twelve clans, founder of the Coalition. 

“I was shot in the stomach by Fleimkepa Titus. It was an accident,” she admitted softly, “I was not the intended target” 

“Who was?” Gustus’s fury was evident in his sharp tone and incensed expression. 

Even softer than before; “Clarke” The word was met with silence until Gustus slammed his fists on the table and rose to his feet, quickly turning away. “She is not to blame. Titus is the one who held the weapon and made the decision to shoot-” 

“ _Because_ of her!” Gustus snapped. “I _told_ you she would kill you!”

Anya tried to step in. “Gus, she may be-”

“No! I will not have this rationalized! Who is Heda now?! A child?!”

“Enough!” Lexa let her authority bleed into the room, causing her most trusted body guard to freeze. “Clarke was leaving Polis at great personal cost. Titus prevented her from leaving and no doubt caused a larger mess than if she were to have left. She was never, and _will_ never be to blame for what happened to me” Her gaze bore into Gustus’s, challenging him. 

“You sound awfully sure of this girl” Oten raised a suspicious eyebrow. Hyper-aware of Costia’s presence at the end of the table, Lexa nodded. 

“I am”

 

~

 

Months passed and Lexa slowly relearned her loved ones, not as Heda or as a potential Heda, but as Lexa the girl. She let herself smile and joke and to _feel_ their love. It was fantastic. 

Her father did the same sword twirl that she did, her mother made them same face of annoyance. Oten and Lyt’s maturity had grown beyond their outward appearances to match the man and woman they would have become. Gustus showed her his whittling hobby and the many small animals he spent his day making. Anya demanded to spar with her at every opportunity and still corrected her even when Lexa won most of them. Costia spoke with her about the event that ended her life and let Lexa cry until she was certain she felt no grief for it. 

She settled in her own hut just out of eyesight from the others and found another small cluster of huts on the opposite side of hers with a nice eyed middle aged man who called himself Jake and a boy who called himself Wells. Lexa knew instantly who they were and began having regular lunches with them, trying her best not to reveal who she was. 

It was the happiest she’d ever been in her life and the irony didn’t escape her.

On almost a year to the day she’d arrived, Lexa wandered over to Jake and Wells’s huts for a lunch. Like usual, it was a perfectly sunny day with a perfectly balanced breeze. After the healing she felt getting reacquainted with her family, Lexa found the days that much more beautiful and relished each breath she took (though she was well aware there was no expiration date this time, which made her feel all the more ridiculous for not wanting to take it all for granted).

Something was different the moment she stepped from the tree line. Usually, one of her two new friends would be there to greet her, eager to catch up with her, but there was no one there. With a frown, she pushed on. Their huts weren’t a far distance from the tree line so it wasn’t long before Lexa pressed her back to the side of Jake’s hut. Cautiously, she peered around the corner. 

In the center of the small cluster was what seemed to be a group hug. She could see Wells, Jake, the woman who had been introduced to Lexa as Wells’s mother, and another couple she’d met. All of them were huddled around someone with blonde hair. 

Her heart stopped. Of course Jake chose that moment to turn around.

“Lexa! I’m so sorry neither of us met you,” he wiped tears from his eyes and she finally got a good view of the blonde in his arms. 

Clarke. _Clarke_. 

“Lexa” the love of her life mumbled in disbelief. She disentangled herself from her friends and family and sprinted towards Lexa. _She looked good_ was the first thing that came to Lexa’s mind. In all fairness, she never thought anything less of Clarke, but to see her in person, there was no way she could think anything else. 

She caught Clarke around the waist and tugged her close, her hands stroking at her hair and back like she’d never done it before. She smelled like the most fragrant flower, the ocean in the morning, a fruit after the first bite. If Lexa had nothing but this for the rest of eternity, she would be okay with that. Clarke pulled back enough to look her square in the eyes and _oh_ that ocean analogy was certainly apt. Clarke’s eyes seemed brighter by the perfect sunlight and the tears shining in them. 

“So we met again” she couldn’t help but say. Though Clarke’s laugh was garbled by the sob, she still leaned forward to kiss her. It was desperate and rough, but Lexa kept it in mind that they would have eternity for softness and gentleness. She brushed her thumb over Clarke’s skin just to feel her. When they felt that pesky need to breathe, they pulled apart and Clarke dropped her forehead to Lexa’s collarbone. 

“I watched you die” It was barely above a whisper, but it rattled Lexa’s very bones. She could see how much it destroyed Clarke as it happened - the tears and screaming and frantic hands trying fruitlessly to save her - and she had already endured the deaths of people she cared about. Lexa never wanted to be among them. 

“And now we get to live” she promised. 

 

~

 

Lexa and Clarke woke up to each other every morning. They made breakfast and prepared for the day before splitting their time between their families, Lexa’s mother doted and Clarke and Jake nearly burst into tears when the pair of them told him their story. Anya seemed less than excited to see Clarke, but she was happy to realize that she hadn’t been shot in the back for nothing (Lexa, learning of the fact for the first time was alarmed, but they both assured her they hadn’t known it was coming).

Some days they would spend only in the comfort of one another. Lexa may have spent the day teaching Clarke to fight, or Clarke may have drawn as Lexa napped in her lap. but the most amazing thing was that it all happened without the burden of others. Neither were worrying about the impact of their choices or the choices of others. 

This was death; in love and at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> One-year.


End file.
